


Night at Hetalia Museum

by Oh_srsly_mhm



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M, Museums, Night At the Museum AU, Peter is a dork, Romance, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_srsly_mhm/pseuds/Oh_srsly_mhm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's summer, and Peter Kirkland takes a job down at the local museum as the new night guard. But when the statues inside begin coming to life at night, can he keep the peace...and his job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter needs a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for reading my newest Hetalia fanfiction! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter!

It was early June, and a dazzling summer had just begun. The cooler, chilly weather was gradually morphing into a pleasant, sunny one, and the people of New York couldn't have loved it more. School children set up refreshing lemonade stands on the street corners, while teenagers strolled down the block with bright umbrellas shading them from the sunlight, with each and every one of them excited for school to be out, and for summer to have begun.  
But Peter Kirkland was having none of it.  
"Peter...? Peter? Peter!"  
Peter Kirkland turned his head from the television screen to the direction of his mother's voice. "Yeah?"  
"Will you please get off your game and go outside? You're wasting your summer away!"  
His eyes automatically returned to the screen, as he continued playing his video game. "But school just ended last week. I haven't wasted my summer at all."  
"I know school just ended, but you can't expect to just...sit here the entire summer, do you?"  
He didn't respond, and there was a dip in the cushions beside him. "I know you just finished high school," she paused, tucking a piece of her honey colored hair behind her ear. "For which I am extremely proud of you!" she added. "And I know you want to relax, but wouldn't you like to spend time with your friends instead?"  
He shrugged and paused his game. "Not really. Now that I'll be heading to college this semester, I probably won't be seeing them again. Which I'm totally fine with." He glanced over to his mother, who had a small, sad smile on her face.  
"What about if you met new people? Would you want to spend time with them? She proposed, gesturing towards the TV. "It's way better than beating Legend of Zelda, I can assure you."  
"I...guess I would," he answered, not knowing where she was going with this.  
"Then it's decided!" She hopped off the couch, and turned around to face Peter, with her cerulean eyes glistening with excitement. "I think you should get a summer job!"  
"A summer job?" Peter felt his excitement drain as dread filled him.  
"Yes! A summer job!" She exclaimed. "I had a few when I was a teenager, and it was a great experience!" She paused, and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "And you would have a little extra cash too."  
Peter thought this over. It wasn't as if a job was the most horrible thing in the world. Plus, more work meant more money. More money meant more video games. Deciding that his mother wasn't going to let up, he nodded once. "Alright, I'll get a summer job!" 

"Have you tried the 'Juice It Up' on the corner?"  
"Yes."  
"What about the 'Burger King' a couple blocks away? Oh, the movie theater right next to it!"  
"Yes and yes. I just don't know what to do, Mom." Peter leaned back in the leather seat in his red Mini Cooper and sighed. "It's been...at least two weeks of waiting for an interview, and I don't really dig the idea of walking up somewhere, handing in my resume, and asking for a job."  
There was silence on the line for a moment. "Well, how about you try...one more place, and then come home? I made chicken Parmesan, your favorite!" his mother chirped, dragging out the i in favorite.  
His stomach growled in anticipation and Peter nodded. "Alright, I'll try one more place and then come home, okay?"  
"Sounds perfect, sweet stuff!"  
"Mom!"  
"Sorry! I guess old habits die hard," she snickered. "Get over here fast before I eat the whole thing!"  
"I will, I will! Goodbye!"  
"Bye!"  
Ending the call, Peter pocketed his phone. He was currently in the parking lot of the 'Juice It Up', who had, to put it nicely, rejected him just a few minutes ago. He still ended up getting a Melon Madness smoothie anyway.  
He thought his options over. He couldn't lie and say he actually went somewhere when he hadn't. His mom knew him too well and Peter was a horrible liar anyway. He mentally crossed that off the list.  
He could try that 'Taco Bell' down the street...but he crossed that off the list as well. He was too hungry and tired to do that.  
Coming to his last option, Peter perked up. What if he made his way somewhere, completely blew the interview, and got home early? That would totally work! He smiled smugly to himself and took another sip from his smoothie. He looked out the window, in hopes of seeing somewhere he had not yet been. Finally, his eyes spotted the perfect candidate which was conveniently, a streetlight away.  
"Lo and behold, my hero!" he joked as he started the car and rolled up his window. "Hetalia Museum, here I come!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter contemplates if he actually does want a job at the museum because of a certain person. However, another certain person makes him realize that the museum is in worse hands than he previously thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Just want to give a big THANK YOU for everyone who has been reading this fic! I can't tell you how much it means to me.

Hetalia Museum was a rather older-looking building. Right smack dab it sat on a major street a couple blocks from Peter's apartment, and it looked like it definitely owned the place. Proud, Corinthian columns were placed at its entrance, which held up the roof at its front. Beautiful arches decorated the premises, with the words: TRUTH, KNOWLEDGE, and VISION etched into its alabaster marble frontage. The sun had slowly begun to set in the west, and it made the marble glisten wonderfully in the fading sunlight.  
Parking on the opposite side of the street, Peter locked his car and jaywalked the currently empty street, pausing a moment to pick up a dime in the middle of the inky crosswalk. Two teenagers, a boy and a girl, sat on the steps leading up to the museum a little to the left, and were listening to something that sounded distinctively like Styx.  
After reaching the top step, Peter paused with hesitance. Truth be told, he hadn't ever set a foot inside the structure, and had absolutely no idea how it even looked on the inside, or what it contained. His hands fidgeted with nervousness within his jean pockets. Nodding once to himself, as if to reassure himself that this was for the greater good (aka his stomach), Peter smoothly opened the revolving door.  
A cool blast of air welcomed him, and he found himself staring down a long, brightly lit hallway, with its glassy tile floors casting back the dazzling gleam from above. Down the corridor and a tad to the right was, presumably, a help desk. A humungous, illuminating globe was elevated above it, and it turned on its axis steadily. An astoundingly grand double staircase led to an upstairs aloft. A family of three were currently examining something on the left side of the lobby while classical piano music floated throughout the building.  
But all of this didn't draw his attention away from the statue a good fifteen feet away from the entrance. It was the statue of a man who had short blonde hair, with glasses covering his azure eyes, and had a stern look upon his face. He stood straight and tall, and was clad in a chestnut bomber jacket over a tan uniform, while he saluted with his right hand. The statue, if you could call it that, looked so human-like that Peter wandered closer to it, in hopes of taking a closer peek to see if the thing actually was a live person. Upon closer inspection, he realized two things. The first was that the statue was definitely a statue. The second was that the statue didn't look angry or stern at all; for the corner of his mouth was raised just a hair, which gave him a friendly, determined, and almost a bit cocky look. He glanced downwards, to find out who this statue was based off of, and then did a double take.  
_'The United States of America'_.  
...What?  
He was quite certain there wasn't anyone named _'The United States of America'_ that he had heard of, or learned about. If there was such a person, their parents must've been die-hard American patriots.  
Peter realized that he had been staring at the human-like statue for well over a minute, and walked over to the help desk. A person sat behind it, who's face was covered by a thick, hard-bound book, with the words, 'A History of Australia, New Zealand, and the Pacific' written on the front in bold letters. Peter placed an arm on the polished counter and set his resume down upon its surface, leaning on it in an overly arrogant manner. He still couldn't see the person's face behind the help desk, however. He coughed once, trying to get their attention, but the person didn't put the book down. His stomach growled, and he knew he had to take drastic measures.  
"Hey, sweet stuff."  
He knew his mother's line had worked when the book, almost reluctantly, was set down. However, he wished he hadn't used that certain endearment when he saw just exactly who was behind the history book, for it revealed the face of a girl. And a very attractive girl at that. She had fair skin and curly cocoa hair, which was fastened into a stylish side pony, with her bangs partly covering her small, bushy eyebrows and comely amber eyes.  
"Can I help you?" Her flat voice broke him out of his trance; her expression a mixture of deadpan and annoyance.  
"You... work here?" Peter, now flustered and embarrassed, stuttered as he gripped the counter tightly. He had no idea where his question had come from and nonchalantly tried to read the written name upon her nametag. His hopes were crushed, however, when she shifted, and her hair fell in front of it.  
"No, I just sit behind this desk for six hours every day because I have nothing better to do." She paused, her tone blatantly facetious. "Of course I work here. Once again, can I help you?"  
Maybe it was her looks. Maybe it was her frivolous comments, or the fact that she liked to read history books for entertainment. However, in that moment, what Peter uttered next had a lot to do because of her cold, annoyed attitude.  
"I-I'd like a job!"  
Stomach and chicken Parmesan be damned. This girl was extraordinarily unique, and intrigued Peter to no end; he wanted, no, he NEEDED this job so he had a decent reason to be around her.  
"You'd like a WHAT?"  
Instead of hearing just the docent in front of him, another was heard down the hall. Both Peter and the girl turned to face the owner of the voice. The first thing Peter noticed about him was the fact that he had hair bordering the colors of brown and ginger. As he hurriedly approached the pair, the teen realized that he had a strange, wiry, bent hair curl on the left side of his face, while his olive eyes were wide with excitement and wonder.  
" _Scusi_ , but did I hear you correctly?! You'd like a job?" The man was probably around twenty, had an obvious Italian accent, and was practically jumping up and down in enthusiasm by the time he had reached Peter.  
Throwing away his delinquent façade earlier, Peter straightened up. "Yes, sir. I have my resume right here-"  
"Oh, no worries about a resume!" The man, who's name tag read Romeo, threw his hands up dramatically. "You seem like a sufficient fellow to me! If you'll just follow me for a moment-"  
"Now wait just a minute 'ere!" There was a screeching of a chair, and the sound of stomping feet, and suddenly the petite docent had come between Peter and Romeo. "Sir, you can't just...just bloody hire this bloke on a whim! You 'aven't even met the guy!"  
Ohhhh. She spoke in an Australian accent when she got angry. She just got 452.6x better in Peter's book.  
"I am the museum curator, aka ' _Il Presidente_ ' of the museum. Therefore, I do the hiring!" Romeo replied.  
"That's not part of the curator's job! The task of the curator is to oversee the collection, not to hire people!"  
"Char, when was the last time someone asked for a job around here? I will take anyone, and I mean anyone who wants a job here!" Apparently, Romeo decided that the conversation was over, for he quickly side-stepped 'Char' and stuck his hand out in greeting to Peter. "I'm Romeo Vargas, the curator of Hetalia Museum! What's your name, kid?"  
"Peter. Kirkland. Sir," Peter answered as he shook his hand, a bit taken aback by the man's keen personality.  
"Well, _Ciao_ Peter, and welcome to the museum! If you'll just follow me to my office, I can tell you all about your new job!"  
_________  
"Let's talk turkey here."  
Romeo's office was located in the back of the museum, and was terribly cramped. Rows of gray lockers lined both sides of the hunter green walls, and a dark, wooden desk and two chairs placed on either side of it barely fit in between the margin. A few posters were hung upon the walls, and were adorned with Italian phrases that Peter didn't know, such as _"Dolce far niente_ , or _"Amore è cieco_. Stashed in a corner were a pile of inner tubes, in which Peter raised an eyebrow at.  
"Oh, don't mind those. I keep reminding myself to take them home, but I always forget," he threw an embarrassed smile in the teen's direction.  
Peter's eyebrow remained raised.  
"Look, I like to swim! Occasionally in the aquariums in the Oceania section! So don't judge!"  
Peter decided to drop it and took a seat upon the nearest chair in the room. Romeo briskly climbed over the desk and sat upon the remaining chair.  
"So, I don't mean this to come off rude at all, but could you tell me what kind of museum this is?" Peter asked as he set his resume upon the escritoire.  
Romeo looked like he had wanted to discuss business, but he grinned anyway. "Oh, of course!" Standing up, he walked over to the lone window on the furthest wall. "Hetalia Museum, in museum terms is..." The man paused, seeming to think for a moment. "Peculiar, from other museums. It was created with the intention of being an international museum, so it doesn't only include things here from the United States, but also from different continents, such as Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia!" He turned back towards Peter and once again sat at his desk. "And that's where the museum designers went a little… _pazzo_ to say the least," he explained, laughing lightly. "Instead of displaying a certain country with a map, or...priceless artifacts, they decided to portray a country in a way that no one had ever thought about before. They created statues which are, in a way, personifications of their respective country. Quite mind blowing, if you think about it." Pausing to see if Peter had comprehended everything he'd said, he continued. "I'm sure you saw Mr. America at the entrance. Just by looking at the figure, couldn't you tell that quite a bit of time and thought went into it? That the figure wasn't based on a person, but on a country, an entire nation, millions of people even!" With every word said, Romeo grew more and more enthusiastic, and used his arms in an animated way.  
"Well yes," Peter answered. "Just by looking at him...well the statue, I could tell that a lot of time went into it. The thing almost looked real."  
" _Sì_ , _sì_! You know what I mean! And that's how it is with every country in the museum as well!" Romeo exclaimed.  
Peter blinked in surprise. "How many more are there? Are all of them like America?"  
"Oh, there's much more throughout the place! Didn't you see...um...Canadia a little ways away from America?"  
"You mean Canada?"  
"Sì!"  
"No, I didn't. I guess I didn't notice him."  
"Oh. Well. That's too bad I guess," Romeo shrugged, then sat upright in his chair. "So let's talk about business," he announced. "The museum is losing money. Like, a lot of money." He paused, his expression becoming a disheartened one. "I mean, you saw the only three people who were in the museum. I guess kids these days aren't really interested in wax figures." Sighing softly, he continued, "So, in order to keep this place up and running, the people who own the museum are 'downsizing.'"  
Peter sat in silence with a confused look upon his features.  
"Which is code for firing," he patiently explained. "Just last week they had to fire all three night guards. I think I heard that they want to replace them with a new guy, but they still haven't found the right candidate."  
"Wait, wait. If they fired every night guard last week, then who's been keeping watch at night?" Peter asked bewilderedly, his head tilting slightly in addlement.  
Romeo smiled widely and leaned back in his swivel chair. "I have been the one keeping watch this past week!"  
"And nothing has happened? How do you stay up all night?" Peter pressed.  
His smiled faltered and he sat upright. "Well...by saying I 'kept watch' probably goes along the lines of...me sleeping the entire night on a couch in the lobby," he explained all in one breath. "N-Nothing happened! There wasn't a break in, and nothing was stolen...at least if something was stolen it wasn't important because nobody's noticed its disappearance."  
Peter shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Were there no rules around this place? His desire to work here was deflating by the second, even if the docent at the front was cute and infatuating.  
"But now I don't have to worry about keeping watch at night, because we have a new night guard!" Romeo's downcast appearance seemed to melt off his face and was replaced with a sunny, cheerful one. "And now I can sleep peacefully at my own place!"  
Peter nodded in agreement. "That's nice. Who's going to take over the night shift?"  
Romeo's viridescent eyes widened exceptionally, which made his expression almost a comical sight. "Che cosa? Don't you know?"  
Laughing in confusion, Peter shook his head. "Uh, no. I've been here for about ten minutes, and the only people I've met are you, and the docent by the front…what's her full name again?" Peter haphazardly asked, going off track.  
"Charlotte isn't the night guard either," Romeo responded, unfazed by Peter's random question. "Seriously, you don't know who it is? Surely you must!"  
While finding out the pretty docent's name was a relief and an accomplishment in a way, Peter was starting to get a bit pissed off at the museum director. "Dude--I mean Sir, I honestly don't know who it is! Why don’t you actually tell me instead of having me guess?" He asked in an irritated tone.  
Romeo blinked. "Why, I thought you would've known by now. It's you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Updates for this story will most likely occur on the weekends, so keep a look out!  
> And just for clarification, Romeo is Seborga (that's his canon name), and Charlotte is Wy. She doesn't have an official name, so I just looked up the most popular girl names in Australia, and decided on that name. Hope that doesn't confuse anyone.  
> Reviews would be amazing!  
> See you all next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets the job and Chicken Parmesan. Also Charlotte has a rabbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie zowie!! Can I just thank you all so much for you lovely comments and the kudos?! Every single one makes my day and I want you all to know that I deeply, deeply appreciate it!

"Wait, what?" Peter's voice rang out in confusion and panic. Unknowingly on instinct, he had leaned backwards, refusing to believe what his ears had heard. "Night guard? Me?!"

"The three night guards said that it was the most important position in the museum," Romeo said. "I think they just said that because they probably stole candy from the snack shack, but that's not the point." He clasped his hands together and shot Peter a hopeful look. "You said you wanted a job, and frankly, that's the only job that is available at the moment. The museum really can't be hiring more people, but we absolutely do need a night guard. You seem like a good kid, and since no one has wanted a job at the museum for two months, I'm willing to hire you on the spot." Smirking and raising his eyebrows, Romeo shrugged. "So. Are you up for it?"

"I…" Peter paused uncertainly and pondered it over. In reality, it wouldn't be that hard of a career. He didn't have to interact with any people, and there was a low chance that there would be a robbery during the summer. Then there was the fact that his mom wouldn't let up until he found a job. Coupled with the facts that it was an effortless occupation, and Charlotte would most likely still be there when he arrived, it was a simple decision. "I'm up for it!"

"That's _fantastico_!" Romeo exclaimed, standing up and sliding over his desk. He wandered over to a grey locker on the left side of the room and opened it, revealing several folded gunmetal uniforms. "What size do you wear?"

_____

"Oh no. No. No you did not!" Charlotte's flabbergasted voice rang out as Romeo and Peter walked back into the lobby. "You hired him. I can't believe you Romeo!" she called out as the two neared her desk.

"Charlotte, we've already gone over this," Romeo calmly replied as he leaned upon the counter. He looked over to Peter, who was awkwardly standing a couple feet away from a pair, holding his new uniform and resume. "Charlotte and I can give you a tour tomorrow, Peter, since its already so late. Also, you can start work tomorrow. I bet you're tired and it won't hurt for me to keep watch one more night."

"Oh good Lord. I swear Romeo, all you do is sleep on the couch. It's a miracle that there hasn't been a robbery yet."

"Hey! At least I actually am doing it and am helping out the museum. When they asked you a couple days ago you lied and said you had to go home and feed your rabbit!"

"I wasn't lying! I DO have a rabbit! And its about time that I leave to go and feed her!" Charlotte announced as she stood up and gathered her red purse and history book. "I guess I'll see you two loons tomorrow," she said over her shoulder as she walked towards the door.

"B-Bye Charlotte!" Peter called out. She slammed the door in response.

"Ah, that's Char for you," came Romeo's voice over to his right. "She's a bit strange and can be a handful when you first meet her, but she sure grows on you!" He looked down at his watch and sighed. "You should be heading home. It's late and I'm sure your parents are wondering where you are."

"Oh, just my mom," Peter quickly responded, not exactly knowing why he just told this stranger he met half an hour ago a piece of personal information. For some strange, unknown reason, he felt that the man was of a trustable sort.

"I see," Romeo returned just as quickly. "Still, you should be heading home. It's almost sundown and your mom must be expecting you."

Peter nodded and fished his keys from his pocket, holding his other belongings with his other hand. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then, Romeo."

"I guess you will!" he walked alongside him until Peter reached the door. " _Arrivederci_!" he called as Peter exited the building, waving in a benevolent manner.

Peter waved back, keys still in hand, and strolled down the steps of the building. The sun had begun to set, and the marble columns cast long, thin shadows from where Peter stood. The teenagers from before had already left, and the street was much more crowded than it was earlier. The honking of cars and the frequent yelling of a taxi driver filled the air and Peter took a deep breath, a grin plastered on his face. As he crossed the street and entered his car, he threw his uniform and resume onto the passenger seat and laughed lightly, not exactly knowing what just happened.

_____

"Hello? I'm home!" Peter announced his arrival as he opened the door to his apartment, using his foot to shut the door, as his hands were full. The smell of chicken Parmesan wafted through the air and he practically made a beeline for the dining room table, where his mother already sat.

"Hi hon!" she replied in response, and rested her chin upon her hand. "Come and sit down so I can begin eating!"

"Hi Mom!" Peter greeted with equaled eagerness. Eyes twinkling, he sat down and grinned widely. "So…"

"So what?" she returned, her mouth full of chicken.

"So…I got a job."

Her head popped up and she gasped. "Oh, Peter that's great! What is it?"

"It's a job…" Peter rearranged his things so he could hold up his new uniform, "At the Hetalia Museum."

"Mhm." She nodded as she cut up her chicken. "What exactly will you be doing there?"

"I um…scored the position as their new night watchman."

That certainly resulted in a bewildered reaction from his mother. "Say what? I thought you loved your sleep! Are you sure you'll be able to stay up all night?"

"Mom, don't get me wrong; I love sleep. I think sleep is one of the best things ever. In fact, if there was another day of the week, all I would do is sleep-"

"-You were saying?" she interrupted, getting back to the task at hand and taking a bite of pasta.

"I'll be able to stay awake all night. I'll just bring a few lattes if I get a bit drowsy," Peter replied as he began his dinner.

She nodded and took a sip of water. "So, is there any reason why you wanted to work there? You originally wanted to work at a fast food place so that you could get free food, correct? Why did you change your mind and decide to work at a museum?"

Peter felt his face grow warm and he vacated his eyes to his plate. "Oh, she just really caught my eye. The museum I mean," he added quickly.

She hummed in response and smirked in his direction. "I see." Thankfully she didn't press the matter, and that part of the conversation was ended.

"Wow mom. Another awesome meal, as usual. Thank you!" Peter exclaimed after finishing the leftover crumbs on his plate. "You'll have to teach me how to make food as great as yours one day."

His mother laughed and stood up. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, love." Reaching for her dirty dishes on the table, she jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen sink. "Help me with the dishes?"

Peter nodded and gathered his own plate and silverware. "Sure." In silence they worked together, his mother washing the dishes and Peter drying them off and putting them away. After finishing, Peter turned to head to his room, only to be stopped by a damp hand on his forearm.

"Peter, I…"

Peter turned around in confusion, noticing that his mother's usual peppy tone was gone. He immediately turned around to see her staring at him, raw emotion blatant in her expression. She smiled in almost a sad way, and sighed. "When did you grow taller than me, Peter?" Chuckling, she wiped her hands on her jeans and cradled his cheek in a gentle way, the way only a mother could. "When did my little boy grow up?" Tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked hard. "I just want you to know…" she took a shaky breath and continued, "that I am so, so proud of you."

Astonished, Peter smiled softly down at her, secretly overcome with emotion. His mother hardly ever showed a side like this, at least not to himself. Not really knowing how to respond, he uttered, "Thanks, mom."

"You're welcome, honey." They stood in silence for a while, until Peter reached down and hugged her. "I guess I just realized that you graduated high school, and now you've got a job…" She laughed lightly and shrugged. "It seems like only yesterday that I dropped you off at high school…I remember later that day you begged me to take you out driving."

Peter laughed along. "I remember that. That first day of school was awful, but when you took me out driving, it made my day a whole lot better."

Silence befell them again, and they stood there, hugging each other.

"I love you mom."

"I love you too."

_____

"This is so exciting!"

"Mom, I've got to go!"

"Aw, your shift doesn't start for at least another two hours! Lemme get a picture of you in your uniform!"

"I need to get there early so that I can get a tour of the museum!" Peter had just opened the front door of their apartment, and was currently standing in the doorway. "Can't you get a picture of me later?"

"No! I need to get it of you now!" She quickly snapped a picture of him. "There!"

"Wait, I wasn't looking! Take another one!" He exclaimed, his eyes widening.

"I thought you weren't interested in having your picture taken."

"Well, I know you're going to post it on Facebook and tag me in it, so I need to look…acceptable," he reasoned, scratching the back of his neck.

She nodded and once again held up her phone. "Well, you're right about that. Say cheese!" she exclaimed.

Posing, Peter winked and threw a thumbs up at the camera. "Cheese!"

"Aw, perfect! Now get out of here! Go!" She all but pushed him out of the apartment. "Text me when you get there!"

"I will!" he called as he bounded down the hall. "Bye!"

The drive down to the museum seemed shorter than usual, and before he knew it, Peter was once again standing in front of the grand stairs leading up to its entrance. Jogging up the stairs, he opened the door and was met with the same, familiar blast of cool air that he had received yesterday and noticed a few people lingering in the lobby. Giving a mock salute to the America statue, he passed by it and was on his way to the help desk until something caught his eye. Another statue stood a little further back and to the left of America, and was strangely somewhat transparent. It caught Peter's eye, and he decided that he could spare a few minutes of his time looking at the amazingly human-like work.

To Peter's puzzlement, the statue looked quite similar to the America one. They shared the same wheat hair, but instead of shorter, straight hair like America, this one had slightly wavy hair, and also sported a pair of goggles on his head, with a long curl protruded from beneath them. Round glasses framed his amethyst eyes, and a small, shy smile played upon his thin lips. He was clad in a tan, heavy winter coat with brown pants. While his posture seemed relaxed, his gloved right hand was gently laid upon the head of an enormous polar bear, which curved around behind him, as if to protect the figure. Peter looked down at the name plate to see what country the sculpture was based off.

 _'Canada'_.

Oh, so this was the statue that Romeo had been talking about yesterday. Peter nodded to himself, took one last glance at it, and made his way to the currently open help desk. The same history book from yesterday hid the person's face who sat behind it, but Peter didn't have to guess twice who it was. "Hey Char," he greeted in what he hoped was a suave tone.

Setting the history book down, Char glared up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Oh. It's you," she said as a way of greeting. Today, she wore rolled up Khaki shorts and a soft pink cardigan which partly hid a cut-off white tank top, which bared her stomach. Peter felt his face heat up and he immediately tore his gaze back up to her face, eyes settling on the red ascot which was tied around her neck. "Ah, so how was your day?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

"Fine." she answered, looking back down to her book.

Well so much for that idea.

Thankfully he was saved by Romeo. "Ah, _Ciao_ , _Ciao_ Peter!" the man called out as he walked briskly to the help desk. "You look so chic in that uniform!" he added.

"I highly doubt that," Peter heard Char mutter from below him.

He smiled awkwardly in response as Romeo reached the two of them. Clapping his hands together, Romeo glanced to Peter, with an electrifying expression upon his face. "So, are you ready for a tour?!"

_____

"This is the diorama room!" Romeo called out as they entered into the first room. Both sides of the lengthy hallway were showcased a different setting, both of them looking extremely different. Romeo turned to the left side of the room and threw his arms out in a grand way. "This is modern day England!"

The little city before him had to have been created with extremely intricate design and patience. Numerous buildings were placed all around the scene, with Big Ben, the London Eye, and Blenheim Palace as famous landmarks which England was known for. Countless figurines were placed around the city.

Peter looked at Romeo, puzzled. "But where's the statue that represents England?" he asked.

"Ah!" Romeo nodded and joined Peter. "We don't really know for sure…but personally, I think its this guy at the front!" Surely enough, a tiny, figure was placed at the very front of the diorama. From what he could see, the man had messy, sandy hair, wore a green military uniform, and had thick, prominent eyebrows. He stood straight and tall and saluted to the viewer, just like the America statue, but wore a stern expression.

Romeo turned around and gestured to the other side of the room. "And this is modern day Paris!" Turning his head, Peter looked behind him to see another diorama, which wasn't that different from the other. He instantly spotted the infamous Eiffel Tower, and the Arc de Triomphe through the innumerable buildings and miniatures, and nodded. "Is this supposed to be France?" he asked as he pointed to a figure, who wore a long, deep blue coat and crimson pants, which made quite a fashion statement. His fair, shoulder-length hair seemed to glisten under the bright lights and he held a bright rose in his right hand. Like the supposed England figure, he stood a little further away from the other figurines, and right at the front.

"I believe so!" Romeo called out as he skipped into the next room. "Hurry up! There's much more to explore!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cringes because of crappy ending*
> 
> Pardon the really late update; my family has been dealing with health problems and I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. Have no fear, however! I've sorted out all of the kinks and I should be updating relatively soon from here on out.
> 
> Comments/reviews would be lovely! Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tours the rest of the museum and Char opens up. A little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!  
> First off, let me give another huge THANK YOU for everyone reading this story!!  
> I deeply apologize for my lack of updating this story. My grandfather passed away recently, and writing has been very hard for me lately. Nonetheless, I really enjoy this idea and will finish it.  
> Also, feel free to comment! I am always open to criticism, and it lets me know that others are actually enjoying this story.  
> And I hope that you and your family has a Happy Thanksgiving!

Peter quickly followed Romeo into the next few rooms, struggling to remember the statues names, and the faces they went with. _Russia, Belarus, Ukraine_. Next room. _Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Poland_. Next room. He barely had anytime to focus on their features, for Romeo was pushing the tour along extremely fast. Finally, they came to a room which was much bigger than the previous rooms. Romeo turned around and flung his arms out wide, as if he was presenting the entire room to Peter. "And this, of course, is the hall of micronations!"

"Micronations?" Peter tilted his head in confusion. "What is a micronation, if you don't mind me asking?"

"But of course! Let me explain." He held his head up and placed a hand upon his chest dramatically. "A micronation, sometimes referred to as a model country or new country project, is an entity that claims to be an independent nation or state but is not officially recognized by world governments or major international organizations."

Peter was speechless. It sounded as if he had read that from a Wikipedia article. "Oh." He managed.  
Romeo nodded. "Yes! For instance," he wandered a little over to the left and held out his hand, "This is Kugelmugel!"

The first thing that Peter noticed about the statue was the fact that it looked more like a little boy, rather than a grown man. Long, braided snowy hair peeked out from beneath a red beret, and tranquil, lilac eyes peered up at him. Peter nodded and looked around. "Are there more?"

"Oh _si_! Accompanying this little guy are the Hutt River, Molossia, TRNC, and Ladonia!"

Peter nodded once more, signaling that he was ready to move on. He could always observe the statues during his watch. Before they exited the room, however, Peter's eyes locked onto another figure, which was placed beside the door. The figure had ruffled auburn hair, twinkling blue-gray eyes, and wore a wicked, mischievous smile. Peter inwardly shivered and glanced down at the name plate while walking out the door.

_Ladonia._

Creepy little guy.

Romeo's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Unfortunately, I can only afford to stay around for a few more rooms, as I must be leaving shortly. Char can show you around the other rooms I haven't shown you yet."

"Alright," Peter answered as they walked a little ways down the hallway, and turned to the right. A cool blast of air hit him, similar to the one he was met with when entering the museum.

"These are the Nordic countries," Romeo explained.

The first thing that caught Peter's eye were two statues that were placed in the middle of the room. Both sported short, blonde hair, but that feature was their only similarities. The taller had its hair styled up wildly, and wore a little black hat on the side of his head, with wide, cerulean eyes starring forward confidently. The figure was dressed in a long black coat with red cuffs, and was smiling broadly. Peter noticed that he was carrying something over his shoulder.

"Is that an axe?" he asked excitedly, rushing over to view it from its side.

"Yes it is!" Romeo replied happily. He joined Peter and gazed up at the statue. "That is Denmark, and beside him is Norway."

The statue that depicted Norway couldn't have been more different than Denmark. Dressed in a navy blue sailor uniform, he stood in a relaxed position, with one hand upon the brim of his sailor hat, which looked as if he was tipping his hat in greeting to the people before him. His dull, indigo eyes matched strikingly well with his clothing. A gold cross pinned his bangs back, and it seemed as if a curl protruded from the side of his head.

"So why does Denmark get an axe, but Norway doesn’t?" Peter wondered out loud.

Romeo was silent for a moment. "Uhh…would an, 'I don't know' suffice?"

"Sure."

A statue standing against the wall caught Peter's sight, and he walked over to it. Amethyst eyes, underneath silvery white hair stared back at him, as the figure held up his right arm. Upon his forearm sat a very realistic puffin. The name _Republic of Iceland_ was written on the name plaque before him.

Romeo's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Peter, I need to be leaving now. You can look around here for a bit longer, then go ask Char to show you around the rest of the museum, got it?"

"Oh, yeah!" Peter replied, looking behind him. "Got it, Mr. V!"

The man laughed and scratched the back of his head. "Mr. V…I like that!" And with that, he strolled out of the room. Peter thought about leaving right after him, until two more statues, in the corners of the room, caught his eye. Walking over to the closest one, he gazed up at the statue in awe.

Much like Denmark's, a royal blue overcoat covered the man, who sat upon a beautiful white horse. His light, blonde hair was covered by a tall blue cap, and he held out a long pole with his right hand. His eyes were a greenish blue, and his expression was so calm it was almost intimidating. Peter inwardly shivered from its cold view, and looked to see what country it depicted.

_Kingdom of Sweden._

Turning around, he faced the remaining statue who was encased in a large, glass exhibit. The figure was somewhat in a sniper's position, for it was close to the ground, and pointed a gun in the direction of the wall. A light blue military uniform clothed him, and a white beret sat delicately upon his head. One of his lavender eyes was shut, as if concentrating very hard on his target. Since there was only one Nordic country remaining, Peter had a pretty good idea what the statue was supposed to represent, but he glanced at the name plate nonetheless.

_Republic of Finland._

Fully satisfied, Peter walked out of the room. Thankfully he didn't get lost and walked back into the lobby.

"You need me to finish your tour, right?" Without looking up, Char asked.

"Yeah! I mean, if you're not busy. If you want to, I mean. If you don't, I mean, I guess that's okay." Peter shut his mouth before another 'I mean' could come out.

"Well, I mean I'm only reading." Char glanced sideways towards him and to his surprise, smiled at him. In actuality, it was more like a smirk than a smile, but Peter swore he could feel his heart swoon.

"It seems nobody is coming anyway, so I'll show you around." The smirk disappeared from her face at the words, and she set down her book. "I'm guessing you've seen almost the entire first floor, but haven't been upstairs?"

"Um, yeah."

"I'll show you the entire second floor, then we'll finish the first." Without waiting for him, she began ascending the stairs, with Peter on her heels.

"Alright."

The sound of feet against the marble stairs echoed throughout the building. Hoping to make small talk, Peter asked the first thing that came to his mind.

"So, where are you from?"

Char spun around, and if Peter hadn't stopped instantly, he would've bumped into her. "Why do you want to know? It's not like it matters."

"Well, I was just wondering! I thought I detected a hint of an Australian accent the other day but I wasn't sure…" Peter awkwardly looked away as his face flushed red.

"Hm. Well, you would happen to be right." Peter's face snapped turned back to hers at the words. "I'm actually from Australia." For a split second, a dreamy expression overtook her features, but it was gone in a flash. "I moved to America when I was very young." Turning back around, she once again began climbing the stairs.

"That's cool! I've always wanted to go there!"

"I don't have very many memories of Australia, but the ones I do have are very special to me." Char announced. "You've asked me a question, and I believe it is only fair for me to ask you one as well."

Surprisingly overjoyed that Char was continuing their conversation, Peter replied, "Shoot!"

"Where are you from?"

"I was born and raised here in New York. My father was English, and my mother was American, and they met on a plane going to Canada. Well anyway, a couple months later they got married and I came along. My dad didn't stay too long after that so that's why I don't speak with an English accent, but an American one. I wish I spoke in an English accent, though. I bet I'd sound really cool with one-"

"I asked where you were from, Peter. I didn't ask for your whole life story," Char interrupted. Dropping her voice a couple octaves, she added, "I am sorry to hear about your father."

"Nah, it's okay." Peter responded, surprised to hear her apologize.

"So I'm guessing you got your mother's way of speech? You say 'dude' and such."

"Yeah, I guess if it would be the other way around, I would be speaking in an English accent right now."

They reached the top of the stairs, and Char turned down a corridor. "That's fine with me. I already work with a guy I can understand only half the time, I don't need another."

While it wasn’t exactly a compliment, the sound of Char informing him that his voice didn't bug her made his face heat up. He spared quick glances to the statues on either side of him, _The Swiss Confederation_ and _The Principality of Liechtenstein_ , but kept his main focus on the girl in front of him. Aiming to keep the conversation going, he asked, "So how long have you worked at the museum?"

"About six months now." They passed by other statues with the names _Kingdom of Belgium, Netherlands_ , and _Kingdom of Spain_.

"Do you like it here?"

"Sometimes. I only took the job here because it paid well and I needed the money." She never stopped walking throughout the rooms, and Peter only had seconds to look at the statues of _The Republic of Bulgaria_ , _Romania_ , and _The Republic of Moldova_.

Peter inwardly sighed at her lack to make conversation and was nearly grasping for straws at this point. "Why…did you need the money?"

This time, he did bump into her when she whirled around to face him. He backed up a couple steps.

"Why the sudden interest in me?" Her amber eyes were thinned in suspiciousness, and she crossed her arms.

"Because I want to get to know you! We'll be working together now, and…yeah," Peter answered truthfully.

"Y-you want to get to know me?" Char asked skeptically. Her eyes shone with bewilderment, and her head tilted, just as a puppy would.

"Yeah."

She was silent for a moment, her eyes still showing signs of disbelief. She turned around quickly, but not quickly enough for Peter to catch a glimpse of the faint blush that dusted over her soft features. "We need to continue the tour. Besides, it's almost time for your shift to start."

Neither of them spoke for a while, until they were back downstairs and walked into a smaller room. Only two statues stood in the room.

"And this, is the Oceania room." Char's clear, strong voice rang out, with respect and admiration practically dripping off the words. "The one to the left is _The Commonwealth of Australia_ , and the one beside it is none other than _New Zealand_."

Both statues were brunettes, and had kind green eyes, which were opened widely with cheerfulness. Peter noticed that there was a something small, resembling a bandage across Australia's nose.

Ready to walk out of the room, Peter realized that Char wasn't leading him. Rather, she stood in front of the figures, staring at them in awe. Peter came and stood beside her. "You…have the same eyebrows as them."

"Really?" Her voice wasn't one of annoyance, rather one of surprise.

"Yeah! They're on the thicker side!" Realizing what he had said, Peter shut his mouth.

Char hardly skipped a beat. "Ha! You're one to talk. Just look at the caterpillars on your forehead!"

"C-caterpillars?!" Embarrassed, Peter turned around. "They're…that bad?"

"Heck yeah, mate."

"Surely you jest!"

Tiny snorts and giggles were his response. Turning around, Peter witnessed something he thought he would never see in a lifetime. "You're…laughing?"

Char's hand was covering her mouth, and her eyes were almost closed. After a moment, she straightened, looked up, and removed her hand. "No, I wasn't laughing, I…" Her eyes met Peter's, and once more, she was dissolved into laughter, not trying to hide it this time.

Peter didn't really know why exactly she was laughing, but the fact that somehow he had made her laugh was still a score in his book. Confused, he laughed along.

After a while, Char took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about that. The combination of you actually quoting Edgar Allen Poe's _The Cask of Amontillado_ and the image of your eyebrows actually being caterpillars was too much for me."

" _The Cask of Armadillo_?"

"It's a short horror story about an Italian man who takes his fatal revenge upon a friend who, he believes, has insulted him," Char responded. "I was surprised you quoted it."

"Oh, I wouldn't have quoted it if it weren't for my mom. I get most of my sayings from her."

"Hm…would 'Sweet Stuff' be one of those quotes from your mother?"

Realizing that his own horrific scenario had just played out, Peter turned away, stuttering, "Ah! No! I mean, yes. But not really…? Please, just try to forget about yesterday!"

He grew more anxious when Char didn't respond for a moment. "…Who'd have thought that the cool and suave Peter Kirkland was really just a big dork?"

Peter turned back to face her. "And who'd have thought that the cold and hostile Charlotte was really just lonely?" He had no idea why he had said what he did, but it surely seemed to get a reaction from her.

Her mouth hung open slightly, and her eyebrows were drawn down in alarm. "What? I am not lonely!" she shouted after a moment, seemingly getting her voice back.

Peter, not knowing how to back up his claim, didn't respond. Char didn't either, and the rest of the tour continued in complete silence. Finally, they ended up in a back room on the bottom floor. Two humongous statues guarded either side of the door. Peering down the long hall, Peter noticed something resembling a coffin in the far back. Something gold was hung behind it, and glimmered in the dim light.

"I'm guessing this is supposed to be Egypt's room…right?" Peter thought out loud.

"How do you figure?"

"Well, those statues look, well, Egypty." And indeed they did. While the body of the statue was human-like, their heads were those of a black dog, and they both held a long staff in their right hand.

"You are correct. If I remember correctly, that's the statue of Anubis, who was the Egyptian god of death," Char responded, her voice certain.

They continued further down the long corridor, until they reached the thing Peter thought was a coffin. Confused, Peter looked around the dark room. "Where's the statue of Egypt?"

As though it was obvious, Char nodded towards the coffin. "Where do you think? It's in the sarcophagus, like a mummy."

"Hm."

"Hm." Copying his noise with a smirk, she gestured to the thing hanging behind the mummy. "And this tablet is one of the artifacts from Egypt. It belonged to an Egyptian king, many years ago."

"It's pretty cool."  
"Yes, pretty cool." Done talking, Char turned around and started walking back. "Let's go back."

Without a word, Peter turned around and came up beside her, the only other sounds in the room being their footsteps.

"Are you still pissed off about before?"

It took a moment for her response. "Yes. I am not comfortable with you blatantly insulting me, especially when I have done nothing wrong."

"Well, to be fair, you did call me a big dork," Peter said, trying to justify his actions.

"…You got me there."

Before he knew it, they were back in the lobby, and Char was behind her desk, retrieving her things. She set a few things on the counter before him.

"Romeo told me to give these to you," she said, her voice muffled. Suddenly her head popped up from below, a few strands of hair coming loose from her up-do. "Here's your keys, your flashlight, and an instruction manual." As she talked, she placed every item in his hands.

"Thanks." Peter placed the keys and flashlight in his pockets, and held the manual behind his back. "So you'll be leaving then?"

"Yes. My shift ends at seven and its already 7:10." She had gathered her book and purse in her hands and had come from behind the counter. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

Peter resisted the urge to say, "Your number" and shook his head. "No. Thanks for the tour though, I really appreciated that you took time out of your day to do that."

A tiny blush came over her features and she huffed. "It's part of my job; I didn't really have a choice." She stood before Peter a moment longer, looking like she wanted to say something, but instead turned and began walking towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!"

With the quiet shut of the door, she was gone. Peter stood where he was for a moment longer, and then hopped up and sat on the counter behind him. Curious, he glanced the instruction manual that Char had given him.

If he had to guess, it was about 15 pages. It was worn at the sides, and the once brilliant, white paper was now a weathered beige. He carefully flipped the first page open.

_'Don't let anything in or out.'_

Well that was exceptionally obvious. He was a security guard, for crying out loud. Laughing in disbelief to himself, he tossed the paper beside him.

The sun was getting ready to set. Launching himself off of the counter Peter locked the front doors, then clipped the shiny set of keys and flashlight to his belt. After sending a quick text to his mom, he sat in the same seat Char had been sitting in, and leaned back.

Peter just then realized how quiet the place was.

The classy, background music had stopped, and nothing was heard. Peter couldn't help but feel cold and almost nervous, and ultimately decided that the silence wouldn't do. He pulled out his phone and turned on the radio, and a modern rock song hit his ears.

"That's better." Peter mumbled to himself. He leaned back further in the desk chair and yawned, content with the music. Realizing that he was actually quite tired, his eyes closed shut. It wasn't as if something was actually going to happen, so a little nap wouldn't hurt at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning to see a bit of Seawy... *aggressive eyebrow wiggling*  
> Thanks to all those who continue to wait patiently! I really can't thank you enough!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is, well, just confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!   
> You know what time it is? Time to give a humungous thank you to all of those who read this fic! You are all so patient and I couldn't ask for better readers. Time has been my friend these past couple months so you can all expect frequenter updates!

Crash!

With a start, Peter was unexpectedly jostled awake and found himself on the cold hard floor. Still half asleep, he blinked his eyes open. At first, he was confused at his whereabouts, but he quickly remembered that he was at Hetalia Museum. He gasped.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God." With a speed fast enough to rival The Flash, Peter jumped off the ground to look around the front room. To his reassurance, the glass front door was still locked, and there were no holes in the windows. He shut his eyes and sighed in relief. Sitting back down in the chair, he glanced at the little electric desk clock, which read 11:49. Man, he was out for a good four and a half hours.

He picked up his phone, which was dead. It must've died while he was taking his little nap.

"Just what I need," he muttered to no one but himself as he reached down into his backpack, which was beside his chair. "And I really wanted to beat that stupid level on Angry Birds." Pulling his phone charger out of the pocket, he stood up, looking for a nearby outlet. Finally his eyes landed on one which was fairly close to the front door, and he walked over towards it.

"Aaaaand here we are!" Peter exclaimed. His phone almost instantly lit up, confirming that it was indeed charging, and he set it down on the bench, conveniently within reach.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up. A cold chill shot through him, and he got the strange, sudden feeling that something wasn't right. He crossed the short distance to the door and looked around outside.

The sun had fully set, and in its place was the moon, full and bright. Absolutely no one was in sight, not even a taxi; but this didn't calm Peter down in the slightest. In fact, it made him even more on edge. He turned around to view the museum.

There was not a person to be seen. The double staircase was untouched, the hallway was empty. The lights glittered the same as before, and the big globe still steadily turned. However, something wasn't right. Something was missing.

"Oh…shit!" With a start, Peter realized that to his utter horror, the United States statue was missing. He ran as quick as he could to the platform it had been standing on. Not knowing what else to do, Peter simply stood in front of it, and tentatively stuck out his hand, to confirm that it was, in fact, not there. His hand met air, and he laughed in disbelief.

"Okay! Okay you got me! Romeo, Charlotte, you can come out now!" His voice was shaky, and wasn't as loud as he wanted it to be. Not a sound answered him, and he tried again. "Very funny! You can come out now." He shivered once more, despite wearing a heavy jacket.

This time, something did answer him. It was a faint creaking noise, and sounded like it was coming from another room from the first floor.

"Guys?" His voice came out more like a whisper than a shout.

Another creaking noise like before was heard, and Peter took a deep breath. Before he could change his mind, he tip-toed his way past the help desk, and towards the hallway. With every step, the creaking noise grew louder, although Peter couldn't tell what was making it.

Finally, he stopped by a smaller corridor, which branched off the main hallway. It was practically pitch-black, the only light coming from a red Coca-Cola drink machine, which would occasionally shake.

Wait, shake?

In confusion, Peter took a step down the passage, soundlessly. The drink machine shifted again, and slowly, Peter reached for his flashlight on his belt. Holding it eye-level, he clicked it on.

A humungous white animal was sniffing the machine and occasionally knocking against it. Its spotless white fur shined in the gleam of Peter's flashlight, its hind legs were short and stocky, and its claws were prolonged and sharp. Peter's mouth dropped open as he realized that it was a polar bear. A real life, alive polar bear. In the museum. Knocking against a drink machine which also had a scarf-wearing polar bear on it. Peter would've laughed and taken a picture of the ironic sight if it not were the fact that the polar bear had now turned and was staring right at him.

Apparently, the sound of him dropping his flashlight had caught the bear's attention, and it snorted once, taking a step towards him. Peter's mouth fell open and he tried to scream, but no sound came out. Coming to his senses, he took a step back, and began running in the opposite direction.

"Aaahh!!" His voice had come back just as he had rounded the corner into the main corridor. "What the HELLLLLL??" The noise of a roar and heavy bear paws against the tile came behind him, and Peter jumped behind the main desk. The loud bang! against it told him that the bear had followed him, and was sniffing the desk.

He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, then crouched down. Leaning his head on the desk, he wondered what to do next.

The epiphany he was waiting for never came to him, so he decided that he should go ahead and call Romeo. He reached into his pants pocket as the desk was none-to-gently nudged from the opposite side.

"Aww, shoot!" Peter's hand returned empty-handed, as he realized that his phone was on the other end of the hall. Suddenly there was a snort from his right, and shortly following it was the head of the polar bear. Its eyes landed on Peter.

With a high-pitched shout, Peter scrambled to his feet and backed away slowly, trying his best to stay calm. He made it around to the edge of the desk, and when he put a hand on the counter to steady himself, his hand felt paper instead of granite. His eyes shot to the paper, and he realized that it was the instruction manual from before. Deciding that he would rather look at anything rather than the polar bear in front of him at the moment, his eyes drifted to the second task.

'Buy a Coke for Kumajirou.'

Peter's eyes squinted in disbelief, and mumbled to himself. "Who the heck is Kumajirou?"

"Its, um, more like Kumakichi, actually."

A quiet, almost timid voice came from behind him. Peter grabbed the instructional manual and held it up to the blonde man behind him.

"No, no, it's clearly Kumajirou, not Kumakichi. See?" The blonde's eyes widened, and he nodded.

Peter was silent for another moment before his eyes widened and actually jumped back towards the polar bear, holding the manual up, as a shield. "Oh my God! How…how did you get in here?"

The man opened his mouth to answer, but another voice answered for him. "Holy smokes, the new guy's awake!"

Suddenly, there was a flash of brown, and another blonde stood in front of the previous one. "Hiya, Newbie! Name's Alfred, Alfred F. Jones to be exact!" As he talked, he saluted with his right hand, while his sparkling blue eyes twinkled with excitement. He nudged the first man and continued, "This here is my bro, Matthew Williams! But you can call him Mattie, if ya want to."

Peter was taken aback, for the two men in front of him looked extremely familiar. "Wait, are you…? You two are…?" His throat suddenly felt very dry, and he gasped for air. "You two…are the…!"

Before he could finish, there was a loud neigh and the sound of feet upon the pavement. Thundering around the corner came a large brown horse, who continued running through the lobby. A person with short blonde hair was frantically chasing it, probably trying to calm it down.

"Pony! Like, stop! This is totally not cool! Calm down like, right now!" shouted the person, while they waved their arms. Another person with shoulder-length brown hair hurried in, and joined in the conversation. "Feliks, let me help!"

Peter couldn't believe his eyes. He could swear that each and every one of these people looked familiar, especially Alfred. Before he knew what he was doing, he was running backwards, deeper into the museum, not exactly knowing where he was going or what he was going to do. More and more people were appearing from the rooms downstairs and from the upstairs as he dashed through the museum.

"Hey! Sour Cream!" A deep voice shouted from his right and shook him from his panicky state. He skidded to a halt, and as he turned his head, he saw a person fixed to the wall. "Got any ice cream?" A heavyset, darker-skinned man looked back at him with an expectant look in his eyes. He wore a bright Hawaiian shirt, and his hair was tied back.

"Um…no?" Peter was speechless, for in front of the person was a name plate, which read The Republic of Cuba. Part of his brain told him that the man looked very similar to the Cuba statue he had seen earlier today, but the more reasonable part of him pushed the thought away.

The man rolled his eyes and slouched against the wall. "The other guys didn't tell ya I need ice cream?"

Peter shook his head. "Other guys?"

"The old security guard team. They mentioned there was to be one new guy, and I guess you can be deemed-" he suddenly cut off, and craned his neck to look behind Peter. "You need to run, kid. Yao's lookin' a bit extreme."

There was a quick cry, and Peter looked behind him to see a group of people, staring straight at him. A person with long black hair, tied in a ponytail stood in front of the others, so Peter guessed that they were the leader. Four people were gathered behind him, while a huge panda took up the rear.

He took one look at the terrifying group, and he ran in the other direction. Reaching the elevator, he jammed the button, with his eyes still on the group, getting closer and closer every second. With a ding! the doors opened, and Peter scurried inside, pressing every button on the golden metallic wall. The doors began to shut an at agonizingly slow pace, but they were fully closed before the group caught up to him. Sighing in relief, Peter dropped to the floor. While closing his eyes, he couldn't help but listen to the song that was currently playing in the elevator.

'Oh it’s a strange magic.

Got a strange magic,

Got a strange magic.'

"Damn you, Electric Light Orchestra, and your terribly ironic songs," Peter can't help but murmur to himself.

_____

"Hi, I'm the new night guard, can you please tell me what exactly is going on?"

Peter nervously asked the question to a couple, both with the same short blonde haircuts.

The man, who wore a hunter green jacket narrowed his emerald eyes. "All you need to know is that I don't associate with you." The white beret upon his head bobbed slightly as he shook his head.

"The others read the instruction manual," a sweet, high-pitched voiced beside him. The girl, who wore a bright violet ribbon in her hair smiled brightly and pointed to the manual that Peter was still clutching to. "I believe it tells them what to do." She spoke slowly, and Peter could detect the trace of a German accent. However, before he could say anything else, the man had grabbed the girl's hand, and was pulling her out of the room, with her striped red dress swishing around her knees.

Peter didn't waste a moment grabbing the instruction manual and opening the first page. He knew what the first one read, so he skipped down to the second one.

Lock up the Micronations or they'll make your night a living hell.

Unsure about that, he read it again to make sure what he read was actually on the paper. It was the same, and he started in the direction of the Hall of Micronations. Thankfully, he remembered where the room was from the tour earlier that day, and jogged in the direction of it.

The Hall of Micronations.

The sign above the door was big, spelled out with huge bold letters. A gate was positioned on the inside of the door, and Peter reached for his keys. He paused for a moment, thinking it over. The place looked empty, but there were probably people inside. Was it really fine to lock people up? Shrugging, he went to lock it.

"Whoops! Sorry!"

Suddenly, Peter was forcefully pushed inside the room. Stumbling, he caught himself before he fell, and looked behind, to see who had pushed him into the room.

A silver-haired man in a Prussian blue uniform stood on the other side of the gate, swirling Peter's keys around his finger.

"H-hey! What are you doing?" Quick as he could, Peter ran back to the gate and tugged on it. Nothing happened.

The man sniggered, and he tossed the keys through the gate to him. "Sorry kid. It's just a little joke I like to play on the new night guards." He had a strong German accent, and his vermillion eyes were wide with glee. As he gestured to the open room behind Peter, he added, "I think you'll want to get out of here soon."

Looking down at the keys at his hand, Peter tilted his head in confusion. "Why are you giving me the keys? Can't I come out through this doorway?"

The man shook his head. "No, no, you can't do that! That'll spoil all of the fun!" He paused to peek behind Peter. "And also because those demons will make your night a living hell."

There was a rustling noise behind him, and Peter's head turned swiftly to see what was behind him. Two kids were looking out from behind various plants, their eyes huge and curious.

"But they're just kids!" Peter protested. "They seriously can't be that bad. Why do they need to be locked up?"

"Listen dude, these kids scar people. Probably for life. One time a security guard was locked in their for the entire night and he wasn't the same way ever again, plus-"

Suddenly reminded on his confusion, Peter interrupted him. "Oh yeah! Can you tell me what is going on? This is my first night and I'm very confused to say the least-"

Apparently it was time for the other man to interrupt. "Ha! You dare to interrupt the awesome me?" It looked like the man was going to say something else, but he took another look past Peter, mentioned, "Good luck," and took off down the corridor.

Silently, Peter counted down from five in his head, then turned around. They had come out from the bushes, their eyes still as wide as they were before, and their heads tilted in confusion. The one on the left, who had ivory hair and red eyes pulled on the edge of his purple shorts. "Are you the new night guard?" He asked, in a foreign accent Peter had no idea came from.

He nodded, not knowing to appear exuberantly happy in front of the kids, or just nonchalant. He stuck with the exuberantly happy plan.

"That I am! Are you guys having a fun night so far?!" Out of the corner of his eye, he made out a taller man in a dark green cape fawning over a little patch of dirt, which he assumed was a garden. A white dog (at least Peter thought it looked like a dog) sat beside him, and a little ways away, a man dressed in princely garbs and a purple cape looked on at the man in amusement.

"Well, I guess." Peter was suddenly brought back to the two kids in front of him. The other kid, who wore a red cap, and a white shirt with billowing sleeves piped up. He spoke in a much sterner voice than the other boy, and he held Peter's gaze. "I'm TRNC."

"And I'm Kugelmugel," the first boy voiced.

Trying to keep on their good side, Peter smiled hugely and did a mock-bow. They were kids, right? They were just kids who were paid to say this, and were hired by Romeo. And maybe Char. When he looked back up, both kids still stared up at him with no trace of merriment on their faces.

"Why do you always lock us up?" The first boy - Kugelmugel - asked.

"Have we done anything wrong?" The boy who claimed to be TRNC questioned.

At a loss of words, Peter shook his head. "No, no. There's just..um." He ended lamely.

Thankfully, (or unthankfully) the man in the purple cape across the room assumed it was his turn to talk. "Oi, quit guilt-trippin' the bloke. Can't you see he's the new night guard?" He spoke in an Australian accent, and Peter couldn't help but think of Char.

"Yeah, just get on with your initiation already!" the gardening man chimed in, still hunched over the miniature garden.

"Initiation?"

Peter had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when the two kids pulled their arms out from behind them, revealing massive water guns.

"Hey-hey now…" Peter put his arms up in what he thought was a pacifying manner, but in mattered not, for suddenly his right arm was dripping in water.

There was another shot, this time spraying the side of his head, and Peter decided to flee, rather than fight. He stooped down to grab the untouched instruction manual on the floor, and took off down the hall. The giggles and laughs of the four beings in the room came from behind him, and as soon as he reached the opposite door, he slammed the gates together. Breathing a sigh of relief, he reached to his side, in hopes of locking the gate before the two kids began shooting at him again. For an unknown reason, he couldn't find them, and looked down at his side.

They weren't there.

He was sure he had clipped them back to his belt after the silver haired man gave them back. He was absolutely sure-"

"Hey! You looking for these?"

An unknown voice called out, and Peter looked up to see yet another kid, behind the closed gate. The boy's white jacket was covered in gray lapels and large cuffs, and sneered up at him. He held up Peter's keys with one hand, which sparkled under the lights.

"Hey, kid! Those belong to me! Give them back!" he called out. He thought about trying to reach them through the gate, but the spaces were too narrow.

The boy laughed, planting his free hand upon his hip. "The name's Ladonia, if you don't mind. I swiped these off of ya when TRNC and Kugelmugel were doing their thing. And don’t worry, I'll give them back to you."

Peter knew that this kid wouldn't hand the keys over freely, and he nervously scratched the back of his neck with the instruction manual. "For a price." It was a statement, not a question.

He smiled and nodded. "Now you're getting it!" He paused but for a moment. "All I want is your promise that we shouldn't be locked in here every night. I want to see the entire museum, but every single night is spent in here." He crossed his arms and looked away with a pout. Peter could almost feel sorry for the guy, if he hadn't been holding his keys.

"I'll think about it," Peter answered finally, and held his hand out. "Can you please give them back?" he tried asking in the nicest voice he could muster in the moment.

"…okay." The boy walked up to the gate, and without a word, held out the keys. Still suspicious, Peter held the gates together and the instruction manual with one hand, and reached for the keys with the other. As soon as his hands felt contact with the keys, something was ripped out of his other hand. The instruction manual.

As if Peter was on fire, the kid scurried away from him, with Peter's booklet in his hands. "I can't believe you fell for that! Oh my gosh!" Turning it over in his hands, he was quickly joined by the two kids from before.

"H-hey! You give that back right now, or I'll-!"

Two water guns were aimed at him, and Peter took a deep breath, trying desperately to be the adult. "I really, really need that."

Ladonia, or whatever the hell his name actually was, lifted his head, with a deadly glint in his eyes. Suddenly Peter realized why these kids needed to be locked up at night. He turned the manual in his hands, and held it up. "Oh yeah? Well, you're not getting it back!"

"Oh really?" Peter couldn't help but say in a facetious manner.

"Yeah!"

The sound of ripping paper filled the air, and instead of one instruction manual in the kid's hands, there were now apparently two. His expression was one that Peter Pan would wear after cleverly fooling Captain Hook, and the new night guard shook with anger.

"You! Little!"

He couldn't finish his sentence, mostly due to the fact that he couldn't be heard over the sound of three laughing children. Fumbling with the keys, he locked the gate, and walked down the corridor, still hearing the sounds of the precious manual being ripped to shreds.

_____

After walking around a bit more, Peter found himself sitting at a bench somewhere downstairs. So far, he had run into many people, but not one person was willing to talk about what was going on. He was still very much confused as to what exactly what was happening, and the result was a major headache. Peter leaned his head on the back of the bench, and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to wake up from this hellish nightmare. It had to just be a nightmare.

"Beautiful, is it not?"

A rich voice with a French accent uttered, and Peter glanced to his left.

There was no one standing in the hall.

Gathering the sleep from his eyes, Peter looked to the right, in case he had been mistaken. However, he couldn't see a soul.

"Non, non, mon ami, down here," the voice almost purred to him, and Peter looked again to the left, by his shoulder.

"Oh, Jesus!" He shouted, hopping back a little.

Sitting on the top of the bench near Peter's left shoulder was a little figurine. He tossed his long blonde hair over his shoulder and crossed his legs. "Like I said, beautiful, is it not?" A tiny arm gracefully stretched forward, and Peter's eyes followed it to the modern day Paris diorama, if it could be called that.

Dozens, no, hundreds of little figures were moving around the bustling, miniature city. The many buildings were lit up with tiny lights, while minute cars drove upon the mini roads. The backdrop was a light lavender, as if a French evening was just upon the city. Even tiny lights would light up in the backdrop occasionally, and the faint sound of an accordion could be heard.

Peter's confusion was suddenly forgotten as he nodded, astounded. "Yeah."

The little man made a sound of agreement, and they watched in silence, taking in the beauty of the lively city.

"Francis! You better not be doing what I think you're doing!"

The nice, quiet moment was abruptly ruined as a voice shouted from his right. There was movement on his right shoulder, and Peter looked down. Another figurine, also blonde, had somehow appeared on the bench as well. His hair was messy, and his bright emerald eyes matched his military uniform. The figure slammed his fist down on Peter's shoulder.

"You better not be trying to win over the new night guard!" His accent was unmistakably British, and his expression was a mixture of disbelief, horror, and anger.

"Why would you think of something as inconceivable as that?" the first miniature, Francis, spoke. "We were just admiring the lovely view before us!"

"Don't you even try to win this one over. I can tell he has British blood in him!"

"Many people have at least some French blood in them!"

During the little squabble, Peter had been shifting his gaze from one figure to the other. After this remark, however, the miniature in the green uniform pulled lightly at his collar.

"Oi, you. Turn around to witness a real city," he muttered as he threw a tiny fist over his shoulder. Peter did turn around, and the sight made his breath go away, as had the first city.

Much like the Paris diorama, the modern day London diorama was busy. Teeny people hurried around the city, and buildings were lit up. The ginormous clock, Big Ben, which stood far above the other buildings, chimed once, alerting the people of the time. Fairy lights twinkled in the dark blue sky, and even an occasional shooting star could be seen.

"Well?" an exasperated voice uttered from his right.

"It's…astounding."

"HA! What do you think of that, Francey-pants?"

"He said mine was beautiful! Even you heard that, Arthur!"

"So what if I heard it! I think we can both agree that this new night guard obviously likes me and my city more than you. He IS English, after all."

"So what if he is English? That doesn't matter!"

"Doesn't matter-"

"Hey, hey, stop!" Tired of listening to the banter, Peter stood up, looking at both of them. "Why do I have to choose just one side? Can't I say that I like both cities?"

Both figurines crossed their arms. The second blonde, Arthur, spoke first. "We have a tally record. There are no ties between us," he said.

"But there doesn't have to be a winner," Peter argued. This time, the first blonde spoke.

"…You are joking, right? There always has to be a winner. What fun would there be if there wasn't one?"

"You guys would have a whole lot more fun if you weren't fighting all the time! Haven't you thought of that?"

The happy chatter and banter from the two cities had gotten much softer, and had almost stopped completely. The accordion too was either too faint to hear, or had been set down.

"It is your choice, you wanker. What will it be? England, or-"

"-Or France?" Francis cut him off.

"Um," Peter swallowed, and scratched the back of his neck.

"Well?" a seemingly pissed off British accent demanded. "Don't just stand there and not answer!"

"You will have to answer, ma loutre. You cannot sit there and hope that this situation will simply fade away."

While Peter had no idea what loutre meant in French, he didn't ask the little French man what it translated into English.

"England! England!" The silence was broken as many of the figurines began shouting from the London diorama. It was met with shouts of "France! France!"

The two leaders, Arthur and Francis, had joined in on their city's shouts as well.

"England!"

"France!"

"England!"

"France!"

Suddenly, there was a clamor that overpowered the chanting in the room, and Peter turned to his right to see what was going on. Coming from around the corner, a beautiful white horse barged into the room with a tall figure in blue upon it. The horse slid to a stop, and without missing a beat, the rider held out a gloved hand to Peter.

"Climb aboard, boy." The man spoke in a deep octave, and his expression was humorless. A royal blue cap set upon his head, and peeks of blonde hair could be seen underneath it.

Peter couldn't move. This dude had basically given him the "Get to the choppa" line, and was playing it off like a badass. He stared at the man in awe.

The shouts of the miniatures caught his ears again, and the man urged, "Take the hand, kid."

Not wasting another moment caught in 'Family Feud', Peter grabbed the stranger's hand, who pulled him smoothly and swiftly onto the horse. With a sound of satisfaction, the man looked forward, and slightly nudged the horse with the heel of his boot. "Let's be off."

As if understanding the words perfectly, the horse reared, and started galloping from the way it and its rider came. As Peter wrapped an arm around the man to keep his balance, he could still hear the shouts of the miniatures in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! (You really should've gotten a snack while reading, though.) I will do my best and respond to every comment I can, although it might be a little later than it should be. See you next time!


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